I had been wondering why Doctor and I aren’t together. I mean look at it this way – I’ve known her since she wore butterfly hair clips and brought baby sippy cups to school. I have seen her grow wackier and lovelier. And I have always adored her. She doesn’t find me that repulsive either, she just thinks I need to grow up. Whatever.
Anyway, it’s been more than 6 years now, more than 6 years of knowing, enduring and holding on to each other, and ideally, we should have been together. I mean Maths says we should.
I have spent a significant part of my life brooding over the most fundamental question of all time – why on earth is Doctor not going out with me?
Well, probably because we live 300 miles apart, but that’s not what I meant. What I meant was I don’t understand why we are not a couple?
She’s cute and I play chess. She eats books and I gobble biographies. She is a witty saint and I’m an oversexed nerd. We so add up, like Juliet and Romeo!
But then, I started thinking about people who should have been together but aren’t. Like Hazel and Gus. And that’s when I realized, it’s The Fault in Our Stars. It couldn’t be explained in any other way.
And so, I consulted our stars on google.
I‘ve been an admirer of horoscopes, because even though half of what they say doesn’t make sense, the other half does. And they kind of explain why life sucks. I mean there’s no alternative, is there?
So there’s this website which calculates various probabilities between two people on the basis of their zodiac signs. You have to choose your sign and your potential partner’s sign, and click on CALCULATE. As I did this, an enormous report card popped up on screen.
The first category of evalution was – What’s Common Between Us?
It said that we shared 40% of the hobbies. I was happy to see that. I don’t want us to be completely different, or completely alike. 40% is almost perfect.
So maybe it isn’t the fault in our stars. Or maybe I should read further.
She’d get bored and want to run away from you – the report card explained. Well, this was a cruel way to explain stuffs. With a heavy heart, I moved on to the next category, which said – Emotional Understanding.
There was a long essay about the movements of Jupiter and other planetary crap, and in the end, it said she won’t be what I need or expect her to be. Something like that. 25% success rate. I needed to understand her better in order to overcome the emotional distance. The fuck. It wasn’t true. She is everything I need. Alright, not everything, but c’mon! I love her.
I scrolled down.
The next parameter was Values. And as the report card suggested, we had a chance of 20% in this regard. That was terrible. I was going down the slope, and even though this was the perfect answer to my question, it wasn’t giving me the pleasant bursts of satisfaction.
The next categories were even worse. The communication between us was at 11%, trust at 10%, and intellect at 8%.
I was shattered like my old Samsung screen, with holes and cracks and sharp pieces and a tinkle. I wanted to go back in time and drop out of my mother in autumn or something.
As I scrolled down, my jaw dropped to the floor. The last category was sexual compatibility.
Okay, Ravish, be a good boy and close the tab. NOW!
But what if it matches!? I mean nothing else showed a satisfactory percentage.
Are you mad!? You have seen her in butterfly hair clips, drinking water from baby sippy cup. Exit Now!
But I have to be sure. What if it’s 99 or something?
I shut my innocent self and scrolled down with quivering fingers.
The sexual compatibility between us was 3%.
There‘s something unbearable about the sexual contact of you two – it said. That left me aghast. I mean not that I ever think of her in a non-platonic way, but 3% is damn too low. What the hell, God!?
I did a few more calculations. And as it turned out, I had better chances to sleep with my brother.
After all this, there’s one thing I can say with certainty – of all the sources that can explain my tragedy, the Horoscope isn’t one of them.